


history of desire

by inlovewithnight



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: Before Odin and Hela had their way, Asgard was known for its skill at love, not war.





	history of desire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Body Talk porn battle challenge on Dreamwidth.

Before Odin and Hela had their way, Asgard was known for its skill at love, not war.

This was before Brunnhilde was a Valkyrie, before there was any need for Valkyries at all. She was a woman of Asgard, strong and capable at anything she turned her hand to. She delighted in her body, in the world around her, in the ways of cosmic science and delicate handcraft alike.

And she loved, oh, she loved, openly and freely, taking lovers as her desires and theirs crossed paths.

One day in a stream of joyous days that she thought, at the time, was endless, she walked the Bifrost and made her way to Heimdall’s post. “Watcher, all-seer,” she called, crossing the threshold. “Have you been expecting me?”

“I would hardly be an all-seer if I hadn’t.” His sword stood alone at the center of the room, locking the portal; he waited for her on the dias to one side, its surface scattered with cushions and blankets that seemed to appear and disappear as he wished them to.

Brunnhilde crossed the room to him, dodging his hands when he reached for her and throwing herself down on her back beside him instead. “I like the view from here,” she said, admiring the endless swirl of the cosmos through the open roof above them. “How do you get anything done all day, with that to look at?”

“I’m much less distractible than you are.” He ran his fingertips up her arm from wrist to shoulder, sending a thrill of pleasure along her nerves. “I have the ability to focus.”

“You’ll have to prove that to me sometime.”

“It can be arranged.”

“Oh?” She looked sideways at him, fluttering her eyelashes a bit, then burst out laughing. So did he, and he reached across her body to catch her other arm and roll her on top of him, chest to chest.

“Show me your focus, Heimdall.” She was still laughing, almost too much to speak, but her laughter broke off into a pleasant gasp as he slid his broad hands up her thighs.

This was before she dressed for a fight every day; she wore knee-high boots and a soft violet tunic that didn’t quite graze the tops of them. Heimdall easily pushed it aside, baring her skin to the slightest graze of his fingernails, soothed by the warmth of his palms.

He caught his fingers in the delicate scrap of her underwear, pulling it aside and letting his fingertips explore the tangled thatch of hair over her labia. She ran her hands over his chest, enjoying the soft, fine weave of his tunic, then pulled it up over his head and tossed it aside. She touched his chest again, licking her lips as she ran her palms over warm skin, rough hair, and the solid curves of his muscles.

“What are you thinking about, Brunnhilde?” His golden eyes narrowed a bit, looking up at her. “You look as if you have some wickedness on your mind.”

“Nothing wicked.” She grinned, her fingers finding his nipples and squeezing a bit. “Only fun.”

“Oh, well. In that case.” He eased a finger inside of her, slowly, his eyes still fixed on her face. She let herself show everything there, her eyelids fluttering as she accepted the intrusion, her smile falling softer and broader.

“Like this?” he asked, pausing for a moment, his finger crooked just enough to make her want to demand more. “Or would you prefer that I warm you up a bit more, first?”

She was nodding before he finished the words. “Warming up, yes. Your mouth, Heimdall. Hurry up about it.”

It was his turn to laugh, as he drew his hand away and rested it on her waist. “Demanding.”

“Always.” She leaned down to kiss him, finishing with a sharp drag of her teeth over his lip. “You know that about me.”

He guided her forward and she went easily, straddling his face and laughing at the tickle of his beard against her thighs. His mouth was hot and sure, and there was no hesitation as he began to lick and suck at her opening, bringing her sensitive flesh awake in every nerve. 

Brunnhilde let her eyes close and her head fall back, losing herself in the feeling while Heimdall steadied her hips with his hands. Heimdall was a familiar partner, easy to let take control and sweep her away. 

He found the rhythm she needed and stuck to it, working inside and against her steadily and firmly, until she gasped and shuddered and came, sending a wet rush over his mouth and down his beard.

He eased her back to rest on his chest again and wiped his mouth clean, his lips twisting up smugly at one side. “Warm enough now?”

“It’ll do.” She rolled off him, letting herself flop easily on her back beside him, her legs falling splayed open. “Now come give me the rest of it.”

“The rest of it?” It was his turn to laugh as he sat up and stretched, rolling his head back and forth to loosen his neck. “Should I be insulted?”

“Not at all, I promise.” She stretched one leg out and nudged him with her toes. “I’m just in a hurry again.”

“We have all the time in the universe.” He crawled over to kneel between her legs, taking hold of each ankle and running his thumbs over her skin. “Why not make it last?”

“Because we have all the time in the universe. No reason not to do twenty fast times instead of one slow one.”

He burst out laughing again, resting his forehead on her knee. “Twenty! You want to eat me alive.”

“Better not waste any more time, then.” She grinned up at him and went easily with the movement as he parted her legs and settled himself against her, then pushed slowly inside.

Brunnhilde groaned in satisfaction, feeling the stretch and fullness of him opening her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her heels against the small of his back and urging him onward. “Don’t stop,” she said, running her hands down his chest. “Don’t tease.”

“Can’t waste any time on that if we’re going to make it to twenty.” He ducked his head, driving forward into her. She watched his face, the way his eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled, the beads of sweat that ran down his jaw to drip onto her breasts. It was good, perfect, his movement against her hot, sensitized inner skin making her muscles shake and nerves sing. 

“Don’t stop,” she gasped again, sliding her hand between them to rub against herself, pushing for the edge that hovered behind her closed eyelids. “Let me… and then you… I want to feel it…”

He grunted vague acknowledgement, the rhythm of his movements not faltering, and a moment later she shuddered and clenched around him, the hot pulse moving through her muscles and making them both groan.

He finished a moment later, heat filling her up, and they lay against each other in sweaty satiation, letting their bodies catch up with their minds as their hearts and breath steadied. 

“Maybe a break before the next nineteen rounds?” Heimdall asked, tucking his chin against her shoulder and pressing a rough kiss to her throat.

“I suppose.” She smiled, her muscles spasming as his every small movement made him shift inside her and send shocks along her nerves. “If you need it so badly.”

He laughed, warm and rumbling, and she joined him. “Dammit, Brunnhilde, you’ll be the end of me.”

“Not any time soon, I promise.” She claimed his mouth with a kiss. “Not until I collect every single time you owe me, and then some.”


End file.
